


That inverted bowl we call the sky

by Rigel



Series: Abydos [1]
Category: Stargate (1994), Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-05
Updated: 2012-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-28 23:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rigel/pseuds/Rigel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had bound him. Tethered his life to her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That inverted bowl we call the sky

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to beanpot for her awesome beta and suggestions

The night air was cool; a welcome relief from the dry heat of the afternoon that had lingered well past the setting of the sun. The wind was restless, though, and the constant hiss of moving sand drowned out everything but the tinkling sound of approaching bells.

The _mastadge_ were being herded down the empty streets and their harnesses were jostled by the constant motion of their plodding stride. The boys running alongside the herd sounded out shrill whistles as they coaxed the slow moving animals toward the pens.

One beast took exception to the sight of a loose canvas awning that was flapping wildly, and halted. It lowed mournfully, dipping its head from side to side, before being moved on by an impatient slap.

Shau’ri stood at the window, tapping her fingers idly on the sill. She frowned to herself when she felt the coarse grit of sand beneath them. The storm was coming; the static crackle in the air building, lifting at the fine curls resting on her cheeks and turning the sky to a liquid, roiling current.

The shutter rattled again. Kasuf coughed in annoyance and she reached out to shut it. It took several attempts to wrestle it closed, as the wind repeatedly snatched it from her grasp. The latch slid into place with a satisfying click, holding it secure.

She turned and worked her way around the room, her eyes darting discreet glances at her husband.

Her Danyel.

Counting back, she used the new words he had taught her; mouthing the unfamiliar sounds to herself. It was now seventeen days since her father had sent her, clad in red silk finery, to appease the emissary of the gods - near a full turning by the reckoning of the augurs, only the last of the moons, _Ieh_ , showed a small sliver in the sky.

The time had passed swiftly.

Daniel sat outlined in shadow, limned against the soft and creeping dark as if it were a cloak settled around his shoulders. Even his features seemed to recede. She saw the merest suggestion of a nose, but when he shifted his weight, the glow from the coals would catch at the clear glass across his eyes, giving his cheeks a rosy hue.

He had said he was not a god, this man she had wed. But Skaara had shown her fire blossoming in his hand and tubes that spat death with a deafening roar. The _suq_ was full of pointed murmurings; these things were surely from the world beyond. And who could deny that he had set the sky afire with a great power as he defeated Ra?

And yet…

She had seen him bleed.

She had touched it to her lips and tasted the metal and salt there, bringing the waking dreams that refused to be pushed away.

In her mind's eye, she had been hidden from him. He was standing before water that was ruffled by an unseen wind, surrounded by the blazing light of the midday sun. He had turned back, smiling and then fell into it. She felt his death and the shock had pulled her from the trance before it was completed.

Disturbed, she had sought a reading. The augur had cast the bones and then prodded at them as they lay, scattered on the hides spread on the ground. For a long time he was silent and merely scratched at a flaking scab, making deep noises in the back of his throat.

Finally, he had motioned at the bones. "He has the mark of a traveler. I see death here, and here." His hand hovered, uncertain and then came down decisively. "And here."

"Which is his fate?" she had murmured, head bowed.

"All." The augur coughed, and then spat to ward away the truth of his words. "All and yet none."

She blinked at this seeming contradiction, confused. "And the water?"

"He is restless. He will seek it." He leaned forward and flipped over the smooth disc of stone at his side, signaling her question was answered.

"I thank you, great one." She had pushed her offering bowl into his hands and then uncoiled herself in one smooth movement as she rose to her feet.

As she pushed aside the cloth entrance to his tent he spoke again.

"Make his path here, on Abydos. Bind him to you."

 _Qerfah_ for constancy, the resin of _adan'fer_ for protection, _targhun_ to give him ease, _ahmar_ for its sweet fragrance.

She had gathered them and ground them together to form a smooth paste that she then blended with oil.

She then took up her knife. It glinted, sure and deadly, with a sharp honed edge she had spent hours refining.

The silk of the veil had parted effortlessly beneath her sure and steady hand. She teased out several of the slippery fibers and passed them through the oil, twisting them together as they emerged.

A thin red cord; made of her wedding finery and with powerful herbs. She had woven it into the fabric of his robes, where it would press firmly against the steady rhythm of his heart.

She had bound him. Tethered his life to her own.

She regarded him fiercely, marking the rise and fall of his breathing. She felt his quiet contentment - even as his curious nature showed in his movements.

Daniel admired the clay bowls set before him, turning them about to make out the incised marks around the rim. Then he tasted the contents, scooping careful handfuls into his mouth.

He had a way of drawing air through his teeth and then tilting his head to the left, one shoulder rising in a short half movement. Lifting the bowl to his lips, he sought her out and smiled at her over the rim.

"The _chorab_ is—" he broke off, searching for the word. "Warm on the tongue this night," he concluded, fluttering his fingers to emphasize his meaning.

Kasuf grunted. His presence was betrayed only by the intermittent glow of his pipe as he savored the heady smoke that wreathed above his head in lazy coils.

For a moment Shau’ri thought that he too would voice dissatisfaction with the meal and felt shamed, her fingers twisting together anxiously.

"What makes it so, the heat, this… taste?" Daniel sniffed the dish appreciatively. "Is good."

She let out a breath, relieved. He was interested in her methods. Though she still thought it odd to have a man question such things.

Kasuf’s eyes tracked her as she considered a reply.

"The seeds of the _adza’in_ fruit," she said. "They are dried and then aged."

He looked confused, his brow wrinkling as he struggled to follow her words.

"I will show you. Here—" She strode across the room to the drying rack set near the hearth and rummaged for a while among the many jars that were stored there.

Plucking a small earthenware crock from where it was nestled, she shook it, making the contents rattle.

"See—" She walked back to where he was seated and crouched down beside him. Pushing her hand into the seeds, she retrieved one and dropped it into his waiting palm. " _Adza’in_. They are small, but very useful."

He squinted at the small round seed and then, to her amusement, touched it to the tip of his tongue. He cast about, looking for the drinking bowl and then gulped down its contents.

Shau'ri concealed a smile. "I have traded far for them."

"How far?" he asked eagerly.

"The caravans bring them, from _Ra-Da’aja_."

" _Ra-Da’aja_?" he repeated carefully.

"A city. Four days journey to the east."

"Where?" he asked. "Show me."

Sweeping a smooth area onto the floor, she traced a few lines into the sand.

"Here is _Nagada_ and there the gateway of the gods." Her finger made the symbol – three circles and a pyramid, then she walked her fingers further.

Raking four parallel lines, she continued. "Here is desert, then comes the deep dunes and then the flat lands. Beyond that comes the city of trade."

He followed the movement of her hand intently as she formed a square, showing the boundaries of the city.

"And here, even further?" He tapped the ground behind her drawings, near enough to her bare feet that she felt the heat from his hand.

"It is named _Awan_. A city of great beauty."

"And then?"

"The sands are endless." She shrugged, but he saw her eyes flicker and look to her father.

Daniel gave him a querying look.

Kasuf chewed meditatively on the stem of his pipe, for a while it seemed like he would say nothing. Then he shifted, as if he had come to some sort of decision. "There are some who say there is water that reaches past the sky." he offered gruffly, clearly reluctant to even speak of it.

Daniel grew excited. "An _ocean_?" he asked. "A… place where much water dwells?" He gestured wide with his hands.

" _Paugh_ ," Kasuf coughed derisively. "Many men will say to you: ‘I have heard of a man who has been to the far water’, but none have I known who have seen it and proved it. It is a dream only. A tale told to children."

He blew a plume of smoke upwards and jabbed at it, suddenly impassioned. "There are always young fools who search for it. All of them turned back or died."

"But there are stories," Daniel protested. "These things are not always a lie."

"All." Kasuf slapped his hand onto the ground. "Put it from your mind, my son."

Daniel nodded, wary of the curt tone in his father-in-law’s voice.

Shau’ri looked away, suddenly fearful. She had seen the flicker of desire in his eyes, quickly hidden, of course.

Daniel held the dried seed in his hand, rolling it from side to side. He looked past it though, and through the cities sketched on the floor, his gaze unfocused and dreaming.

She leaned forward, scattering the sand in one firm motion.

"Husband," she said. "There is no water there, only the blue of the sky reflected in sand."

He turned to her, slowly. A smile touched his lips but didn't reach his eyes. His hand moved over the sand, tracing a circle, then another. A circle within a circle. "No. There is no water here."

A shudder passed through her. His last word, uttered so carelessly, seemed prescient somehow. "There is much to see here," she pressed. "The gods may have left many things behind."

"They made the gates," he said, nodding. "There must be more. Maybe things are hidden."

He stroked her cheek affectionately and she leaned in toward him. She rested her head against his chest, listening to his heart beat and her hand stole up between them to touch the faint red thread curled there.


End file.
